


Run Into You

by Love_you_a_latte



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, Sherlock Holmes (Downey films), Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Crack, Crime Scenes, Crimes & Criminals, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Government Agencies, Humor, Mild Language, Murder, Murder Mystery, Mystery, Organized Crime, Spies & Secret Agents
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-29
Updated: 2020-06-29
Packaged: 2021-03-04 00:34:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24974662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Love_you_a_latte/pseuds/Love_you_a_latte
Summary: You are a government agent trying to run away from your responsibilities, only to run straight into the thick of a massive crime scheme. You don't know who James Moriarty is, and quite frankly, you don't care. But Scotland Yard keeps calling you in for minor cases, and with both the police force and Mycroft Holmes breathing down your neck, you may have to get involved.Unfortunately, Sherlock Holmes is also involved, which leads to insanity.Some vacation you're having.**Note: I'll only continue this if it gathers some interest, so please comment if you do like it.
Relationships: John Watson & Reader, Sherlock Holmes & John Watson, Sherlock Holmes & John Watson & Reader, Sherlock Holmes & Reader
Comments: 1
Kudos: 15





	Run Into You

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone! This is Char, and I'm happy to have you!  
> Full disclosure, I actually haven't watched BBC's Sherlock, only read the books. But I hope you'll forgive me, since I'm going to rely on what I do know about it to make this work.  
> Enjoy!

For many years, Dr. John Watson would claim that there was only one person who ever stumped Sherlock Holmes: you. Irene Adler could outsmart and seduce and hide. Moriarty would be his greatest match. But you were different. While Adler and Moriarty were chess players, you were the invisible queen, flitting across the board with a grace no one expected, taking pieces one by one when they stood in your way. John and Sherlock knew you were different, but it was hard to pin down _why_ exactly. There was nothing overly cunning about you, and though you played smaller games within the board of London crime, you never cared for the bigger picture. Maybe that was what made you so unpredictable.

In any case, you remained somewhat of a mystery to Sherlock Holmes. Though he'd have you figured out one moment, you'd completely defy his expectations the next, and it infuriated him to no end. Maybe that was my Mycroft liked you so much.

But you had no real idea what Holmes thought of you, and you didn't try to guage it. You studied people, too, from a psychological standpoint rather than analytically like him. But you knew a brick wall of a man when you met one, so you gave up trying to figure him out very quickly. Over your years working together, you'd learn his habits and how to read his mind when glimpses of its inner workings flashed in moments of vulnerability. 

But now, in the middle of Scotland Yard, with people rushing around like madmen and a serial killer on the loose, with no interest in the private eye Lestrade had hired, with all your focus on one subject, you didn't notice Sherlock. Maybe if you had, life would've gone very differently for you. But in your moment of ignorance to his presence, you had no reason to hold back from this case, which would lead to the acute attention of the greatest detective in the world's history, and to a life of excitement, joy, and pain.

The London streets were shrouded in fog today, and though the streetlamps burnt brightly, it was nearly impossible to see more than a block ahead. The usual drizzle that accompanied any day in Scotland Yard was surprisingly absent, and maybe if it weren't for the gray clouds looming overhead, it would have been sunny.

Inside of the Yard, you were blissfully unaware of your surroundings. The file that sat open in front of you was all you cared for, so you didn't notice the people rushing in and out of the room. You were tucked away in a corner desk of one of the various detectives, who had probably been fired within the last hour if the force's history of employment was any indication, surrounded by many other desks. Ahead a few yards and to your right was the entrance to Homicide, which you were currently working in, and to your immediate left were the doors to various investigation rooms. Inside were men being held for questioning, one of which you would meet in a moment.

His file was not a very thick one, with little history, but as of late, there was serious evidence stacked against him for a number of murders. If you were listening, you might have heard the one and only Sherlock Holmes grumbling at Lestrade about the same man. But you weren't, absorbed fully in studying every clue. The suspect was clearly the man you were looking for, but there was one problem: he had an alibi for the night of one of the murders. It wasn't air-tight -- a friend of a friend had seen him at a bar on Third Street -- but it was an alibi nonetheless.

After some deliberation, a search on [babynames.com](http://babynames.com) for something that could pass as a real person, and practicing your I'm-pissed-off-don't-speak-to-me face, you stood up angrily, shoving the desk away from you. It crashed into the intern's chair, and he nearly lept out of his seat in fright. When you started straight towards the nearest witness room, Lestrade took notice of your red face and the angry light in your eyes. But before he could stop you, you burst through the door, startling the man within. He was potbellied, portly, and ugly, wearing a red polo and khakis just like in his file photo.

"You demon!" You screeched, launching yourself at him. You yanked him up by the collar of his shirt, ignoring the scrambling of police officers in the other room and the frightened breathing of the suspect. 

"You murderer! You killed Damian!" You slammed him into the wall, face contorted in rage. You could hear Lestrade shouting your name now.

"I don't know what you're talking about," the man stammered, hands raised.

"Damian. My brother. You murdered him last night at a bar on Third Street. We've got witnesses so don't. Lie. To. Me." Your teeth were gritted in a hard line, and your detainee had begun to sweat.

"[Y/N]!" Lestrade yelled, grabbing you by the wrists and forcefully removing you from the man. You screamed in rage, shaking furiously and yelling back.

"Let me go! He killed my brother!"

"I didn't do anything!" The suspect panicked, slumping against the wall in fear of your contorted form as you desperately tried to escape the detective's grasp.

"DON'T LIE TO ME!"

"I DIDN'T! I WASN'T EVEN ON THIRD STREET LAST NIGHT!"

With that, you went limp and silent. Lestrade nearly stumbled into you with the change in force, still holding on.

"Is that so?" You asked the potbellied man, voice perfectly calm and serene. Your face began to return to its normal shade, and your lips turned up in a small half smirk. "Because, according to your buddy, you were at Third Street last night. In fact, that alibi was the only thing you had going for you on the murder of Daniel Gray."

You could see the color drain from his face, and feel Lestrade ease his grip. The detective had seen you act before, but nothing like this. This was the side of you that usually stayed underneath wigs and contact lenses, but you were tired of pretending that you weren't one of the most skilled government agents on the continent. You could tell by Lestrade's fingers still on your arms that he didn't quite trust you to not kill your prime suspect, but when you knocked shave and a haircut on his arm, he released you.

"Let's leave Dr. [Y/L/N] to do her job, men," he announced to the roomfull of officers whose hands were at their hips, ready to draw. You smiled and nodded at each of them as Lestrade shooed them out, despite protests. Once the room cleared, you seated yourself at the questioning table, and motioned for the suspect to do the same. He still looked terrified, but maybe it was his terror that seated him so quickly.

"Now, Mr. Lewis Eugene, you are our primary suspect in the murders of Louisa Henshaw, Marty Fields, and Daniel Gray. If you cooperate, we can all go home."

He was shaking in his seat, but nodded ever so slightly.

"So, let's try this again. Where were you last night?"

It was in that moment that your peace was disturbed by a tall, lanky man opening the door and stepping into the room. You glanced over in annoyance, and prayed that he'd leave.

"This won't be necessary. I have already proven that he murdered Gray," the man spoke.

You gave Sherlock Holmes a disgruntled once-over, and decided you liked his brother a lot more. But you weren't about to let your pettiness get in the way, so you pushed your chair out from the rickety metal table and reached out to pat Eugene on the shoulder. He nearly flung himself out of his chair with the force of his flinch, and you smiled coldly.

"Nevermind, Eugene. Turns out we don't need you." You followed Holmes out, ignoring the way he studied you carefully. 

He didn't hold the door open for you, but almost let it slam in your face. Luckily, you were prepared for it.

"Who, might I ask, is this?" He said, motioning vaguely to your person. You rolled your eyes, and ignored the comment.

"I'm headed out, Lestrade, since you don't need me anymore," you declared, brushing past the sociopath to grab your purse from the desk you had so hastily shoved across the room. You didn't wait to hear Lestrade explain that you were a friend of Mycroft's, or to see the way the younger Holmes' eyes narrowed. You didn't even notice Dr. Watson flinch slightly as you walked past.

Once you were back out on the London streets, you punched in your boss's number, and let your heels carry you off into the fog.

"Mycroft Holmes, you'll be pleased to know that your brother interrupted my investigation... Yes, I am fully aware that he is more competent than me at solving crimes, however, he doesn't have to be such a dick about it."

"Did he find out who you are?"

"I don't see how he couldn't after what happened in there."

"Then the board has been set."

You hated Mycroft's chess analogies.

**Author's Note:**

> If you find this interesting, please let me know!!  
> Can't comment?  
> My business email is here:   
> serendipityscribbles@gmail.com  
> And my business Instagram is here:  
> @lotte_art_


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